Letters
by Caelum Isleen
Summary: Letters are exchanged... Insults are exchanged... Worries are exchanged... Lily and the Marauders plus a couple others, away but never apart. Which is probably why James Potter is deaf but not yet dead.
1. Chapter 1

Dear Remus,

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. Things have been crazy in this house, currently dubbed "catering service" for more than a couple reasons. You just don't know how hard it has been for me to have more than five minutes for myself, which I now consider a profitable record. But I won't bore you with what has been happening in my life to make it so chaotic – let's just say my sister is engaged to a really fat and obnoxious twerp with a ruffled moustache where fragments of food can often be found stuck to after meals, and that simple fact has clearly been affecting everyone's sense of reality because mum can't stop bouncing about like a hyper crup and dad's been so grumpy lately one would assume he was getting a second protoscopy.

Petunia is so radiant it's obfuscating, but it's not like I appreciate her niceness when she's obviously just trying to convince me to get into that horrendous bright pink dress. It has these fluffy things resembling purple jellyfishes that make you want to squash them with your foot and watch as the guts spread out on the floor.

Merlin's beard, I've actually just recited everything that has been happening to my life lately, haven't I? Well, at least you are now aware of my dreadful condition and my excuse for having been ignoring you for the past few weeks. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me and maybe I can accelerate the process by buying you a grand pistachio, crisped almonds covered ice-cream next time we meet at Fortescue's?

Either way, I have to go now. Must go check on the tarte Tatin that was left in the oven. Give your mum my love and think about my proposal! Let us meet soon.

Your inconsiderate friend, awaiting her redemption

Lily Evans

P.S.: Tell that POOR EXCUSE of a Marauder **Potter** NOT TO WRITE ME ANYMORE. Not only does he have the ability to drive me up the wall with his daily self-called 'LOVE DECLARATIONS' (all of which are not the littlest bit "ENDEARING", no matter what mum says!) but also last time his Tengmalm's owl had the misfortune to run into Petunia, she threw the remote at the ceiling and smashed my parents' favourite chandelier (Petunia, not the owl). Just so he knows, because I am most definitely NOT speaking to him, I'm sending the bill to his house since he's an unsupportable, overly annoying and insistent GIT.

Gwenllian is fine, though.

* * *

Dear Wormtail,

I hope you're doing well at your great-aunt's house. I heard she's a right spanner. Give her my most bashful regards and also, don't hesitate to owl me if you find that she needs urgent fixing. I suspect I still have darling aunt Elladora's guillotine stored somewhere. I don't know if we can fit your kinswoman's neck in it, but we can always chop one of her toes at a time.

I cannot be sure if the wrapper I'm attaching to this letter gets to you in one piece but if you're not able to identify it, it's your set of gobstones. You know, the one you forgot in my trunk when you stuffed it there for fear of McKinnon making fun of your neon green gob reading REAL MEN WEAR PINK? For the first time in your life, mate, you seem to have made a wise choice. That thing is absolutely hideous.

Prongs is out of town right now (he and his parents are visiting some old, ruddy relative somewhere in Éire land) so I'm the one doing the honours and inviting you over to his house this weekend. A little Marauders' bounding time, so to speak. So **don't** even think of using your second cousin's cremation as an excuse to skive off again or you're a plonker.

The one and only

Padfoot

P.S.: WWN has just announced a stormy weather for tonight. All I can say is: tough luck, old chum, your set is a goner. Oh, and tune in 702.3 ZM – Flea Garden's rockin' OUT!

"_'Cause you're my green-eyed witch, flashing dragonfly wings, oh yeah..."_

* * *

Dear Lily,

Hi there! I hope you're still awake at this hour (although I'm not quite sure of the time differences). I was just so excited I couldn't help but write to you. I miss you so much! I was going to call to your house, but then I remembered I didn't know how to operate a pheletone.. Or whatever it is called. So I owled Ray Ray and she explained it all to me but I didn't get anything.

Kyoto is fantastic! We just came from our tour round the city where we went shopping and sightseeing – **gorgeous** stuff they have here and best of all, so many shops! I just hope to have bought enough souvenirs. Although from Dad's face I can safely assume I did.

We went to this groovy restaurant where I ate raw fish and seaweed. Really. I have to say, it tasted kind of funny but everything else was too great for me to even attempt to sulk and demand for some lasagna. So you should be proud of me! My taste buds are complaining as we speak. As are my intestines...

Japanese people are brilliant, by the way. Eccentric and a little cuckoo, of course, but that is no surprise. They somewhat remind me of Dumbledore (speaking of which, reckon he fancies paper umbrellas?), only without the ancient look. They also take their shoes off all the time. It's freakish.

But on the other hand they're extremely polite. Some of the customers in the restaurant we went to were simply scandalized when Deneb burped at the table and even more when daddy had to blow his nose (it had been pouring down since morning and he was the only one without a cagoule. Mum always said he was a bit of a nesh). Good thing we left before Pollux and Castor could start their infamous turkey rice purées fights.

I'm feeling rather drowsy right now so I better get to bed. Many apologies if I incidentally forced you out of yours.

Your favourite ecstatic little kit

Eithne

P.S.: Bev was out slaughtering innocent rodents somewhere so I used this scops owl. It can be quite vicious when it puts its mind to it (I have the irrefutable evidence stamped on the tip of my nose), so you may want to have sharp secateurs at hand, just in case.

Not that I used them or anything.

* * *

Dear Prongs,

Greetings from Glasgow! How is the weather in Belfast? I was told you were staying there with some relatives of yours for a couple of days. And yes, this was as accurate as Padfoot could get with me. Hopefully, you will enlighten me further in your response to this letter.

Mum and I have been travelling round the Highlands for three weeks now. I must say, her job at the Ministry is finally paying off – if for nothing else, at least for some quality time between us. Merlin knows how much we've been needing it. Peter's at his aunt Tella – lovely woman, from what I heard. Makes you wish for a troll residing under your bed. Ray Ray is roaming western Europe since July, according to Wormtail. Eithne's savouring the Oriental breeze. And then you. Well, it sure seems as though we are all taking some time away, isn't it?

So what about Ireland? Having any fun so far? Or was Sirius' tedious tone any indication?

Speaking of which, are you really arranging a Marauders' meeting this Saturday or was Padfoot just desperately craving for mine and Peter's company after your abandonment? I'll actually be back to London tomorrow so you can count me in, hoax or not. Thought you'd get rid of me so easily, eh mate?

Joking aside, I have something else I would like to tell you, James. It's about Lily. She finally contacted me yesterday. You can only imagine how relieved I was, as I'm sure you are right now as well. All the muggle attacks that have been going about, I have to confess I was beginning to fear the worst at this point.

But she's alive and well and that's what matters. So don't worry, she's fine. So fine, in fact, that she didn't mind wasting an entire inch of parchment pouring out her inmost opinion of you. I'm sorry to say it wasn't a very positive one: for starters, she asked for you to stop writing to her (she doesn't want to speak to you), and even though I know you well enough to know that you won't possibly take this request seriously, I still think it's my duty as one of her best friends to transmit the message.

She also told me about a very recent episode involving your owl and her parents' favourite lamp? Am I correct? You will be the one paying for the damage inflicted in Miss Evans' property, I'm afraid. Not to worry, though, Gwenllian wasn't harmed. Something I cannot say about yourself, given her excessive usage of capitals in a single paragraph.

Say hi to your folks for me. And please don't hold any grudge against this completely exculpatory mate of yours.

For now deprived of his "furry little problem" and missing his favourite glaikits

Moony

* * *

_**JAMES POTTER!**_

_YOU GORMLESS DIMWIT! I HOPE YOU ARE MOST PROUD OF YOURSELF! YOUR BLOOMING OWL JUST BURST INTO MY HOUSE THE OTHER DAY, SCARING MY SISTER HALF TO DEATH AND CAUSING HER TO ACCIDENTALLY CRASH A VERY VALUABLE AND EXPENSIVE RENAISSANCE PIECE. AS THOUGH IT WEREN'T ENOUGH TROUBLE FOR ONE NIGHT, OUR CARPET CAUGHT FIRE AND IT INSTANTLY SPREAD THROUGH THE ENTIRE LIVING ROOM LIKE GUNPOWDER! _

_I SURELY WASN'T SURPRISED WHEN A LETTER WITH __**YOUR**__ HANDWRITING AND ADDRESS DROPPED AT MY FEET! _

_MUM AND DAD HAVE BEEN SCRUBBING THE WALLS FOR NEARLY SIX HOURS AND PETUNIA IS STILL TRYING TO FIX HER SINGED EYEBROWS WHILE YELLING AT ME NOT TO COME ANY CLOSER THAN FIFTEEN METERS FROM HER. AND IT'S __**ALL**__**YOUR FAULT**__! AS IF SHE DIDN'T HATE ME ENOUGH ALREADY!_

_I WOULD BE ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTED TO STRANGLE YOU RIGHT NOW, IF IT WEREN'T FOR THE FACT OF IT INVOLVING PHYSICAL CONTACT, WHICH DESPITE WHAT YOU MIGHT THINK, POTTER, DOES NOT APPEAL TO ME IN THE LEAST!_

_I DON'T EXPECT YOU TO REMOTELY UNDERSTAND HOW AWFUL MY ROUTINE HAS BEEN BUT I DO EXPECT YOU TO BE CLEVER ENOUGH NOT TO BOTHER ME ANY MORE. HONESTLY, HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU __**NOT TO CONTACT ME**__? THE ONLY MAIL I SHALL RECEIVE FROM YOU BEST ONLY HAVE A SINGLE GREEN WAD ENCLOSED TO PAY FOR THE DAMAGE, POTTER! I AM NOT JOKING WHEN I TELL YOU TO GET OFF MY CASE __**PERMANENTLY**__! _

_IF IT WEREN'T FOR CONSIDERATION TO YOUR PARENTS AND WHOEVER ELSE THAT MIGHT BE LISTENING TO THIS, I WOULD NOT SPARE MOST OF THE INSULTS THAT I HAVE RESERVED FOR YOU. SO IN ORDER TO PRESERVE BOTH OUR DIGNITIES, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM SENDING ME ANY MORE POEMS, LETTERS OR ANY OTHER DEMENTED APPROXIMATION OF LITERATURE! THEY WILL MOST LIKELY END UP STRAIGHT IN THE FIREPLACE WITHOUT ME CARING TO OPEN THEM._

_CORDIALLY __**NOT**__ YOURS,_

_LILY EVANS_

_

* * *

_

Dear Padfoot,

Hello and thank you so much for sending me my gobstones! The board was completely soaked and it has been swelling ever since I used a heating charm on it, but other than that everything seems to be okay. Oh and some of the gobs seem to be missing and some are cracked but I think I was able to save them for the most part. Greeney was completely unscathed, thank Merlin! And the reason I put it in your trunk had nothing to do with Marlene. It was too sunny out and you know what sun does to gobs. Especially to ones with flubberworm mucus inside.

The bad news is I don't think I'll be able to play with them. You see, aunt Tella has assigned me a tutor over the holidays, so I've been quite busy studying this summer. She expects me to improve my marks next year, so I can get a decent job someday. She was very disappointed with my OWLs' results, as was ma. Pa was a brilliant student in his school years, potions especially. My worst score, that is.

I'm afraid I cannot go to James' house this weekend. I will be perfecting my brewing of the skele-gro potion and I think I'll get it right this time now that I can finally tell the difference between beetle eyes and doxy eggs.

I am very sorry! I hope you all have a grand day and enjoy these mint chocolate biscuits I'm sending. Ma made them.

Sincerely yours,

Wormtail

P.S.: I forgot to mention Reagan wrote me two days ago. She wants you to stop sending her bat wings bouquets because, in her words: "it's not cute anymore". She seemed quite upset.

P.S.S.: Fulbert's cremation wasn't an excuse. It really did happen!

* * *

Dear Eithne,

Konnichi wa, tomodachi! Hopefully I had the greeting right, but feel free to discord with me. I have very little faith in Pryderi's linguistic skills, after all. But forgive this whim of mine and tell me: how have your holidays been? Good, yes?

Mine have been marvellous. So many places to see, so many things to learn... I absolutely adore Europe! I wish I never had to leave again, because there are just too many things I still need to do and too many more days until I see Black's ugly mug again (no offense to you, of course). The downside of all this is: I miss you oh so terribly! I cannot wait to get home and channelise two months of homesickness into yours and Lily's scrawny little bodies. You have every right to demand for an indemnity afterwards.

I am currently visiting the Netherlands, a wonderful country if I do say so myself. Dulcie's camera came most in handy when we stopped by a small village called Kinderdijk. It's a beautiful place filled with many ancient windmills dating from the 1550s and that are surprisingly still operational. This was as much as I could gather about it – ja, ik leer Nederlands spreken! - but it is something, don't you think?

And then, somewhere in between deciding whether we should return to our hotel or stay a little while longer, that cheeky chappy Ceinwen got herself into trouble, unsurprisingly. This time, by falling into a lake. Of course her fascination for stone loaches had always been a bit worrying but we assumed that leaving her without vigilance for more than two minutes wouldn't cause any long-term damage. It would have been quite amusing, actually, if mother hadn't practically forced Dulcie and I into the water to retrieve her precious lastborn.

As it is, we ended up soaked to our bones and with mud up to our ankles so needless to say, my shoes and dress got completely ruined. Thankfully, my velvet cloche was saved by a gentlemanly boy who happened to be close by at the time and jumped right in after us. He, along with his mother and father helped the three fair, hopeless maidens out of the water and later invited us to their chalet to dry off. It was a fortunate coincidence that they spoke english rather well, otherwise the entire event would have been awfully awkward. We courteously accepted their offer, and after a few cups of tea, Gerhard's parents and mine had become the best of friends. You know how my father is when it comes to foreign cultures, and the dutch are particularly nice people once you get to know them.

We are now preparing to leave for Belgium, and Mr. and Mrs. Metternich already promised to visit us when we get back to London. Perhaps you can meet them then.

Ik hoop dat ik spoedig iets van je hoor (hope to hear from you soon),

Love,

Reagan

* * *

Dear Moony,

You will be pleased and shocked to hear that Lily finally brought herself to write to me. True, it was a Howler, but a Howler in which she was forced to spend some of her time, rage and wit with, no less. So now you don't have to feel so bloody special, do you? By the way, that best friends dig was nasty. Don't do it again.

Now, how shall I resume the lovely exchange? Well, after shouting senseless about my idiocy in that sweet voice of hers, she repeatedly warned me not to write her back unless I were to send her money. Ah, my Lily. How naive of her to think I will possibly comply with her wishes! Of course I plan on sending her the money (you will have to trade some of mine for muggle wads, however). But I certainly don't intend to stop writing to her every single minute available.

I know, I know. I shouldn't get her so riled up. But it's fun, Moony! And it's the only way I can get her to acknowledge my existence! So how can I possibly resist?

Onto more serious matters now, Dad did tell me a great deal about these attacks. He didn't want to, at first. Said I was too young and needn't worry myself with such things. Of course I bugged him day and night until he eventually yielded. Mum was not too pleased herself, but understood when I told her why it was so important to me. There was some sort of perturbing glister in her eyes, though, and something about her sad smile told me she found me hopeless.

Maybe she's right. I am hopeless, in a way. Yet I don't believe I care much, if that means I get to know about what has been happening. I don't know what I would do if Lily got hurt.

But I do not want to end this on a sad note. So if, by some chance, you bump into Peter somewhere, do try and convince him to come. It's great that his newfound ability to distinguish potions ingredients from evil pests' dejections is aiding him, but I am with Sirius when he says he "could give less of a flying armadillo about that".

The brownies were good, though, I'm sending you a couple some. Sorry if they're a bit squashed – blame Padfoot. I told him to open the window the first time Chester flew into it. Apparently, he found it extremely hilarious to see if he could get it to repeat it two more times. Hopefully, Peter won't notice the difference.

Despondent and highly in need of a certain redhead's snog,

Prongs

P.S.: Should I be aware of what renaissance actually **means**? Because I'm not. The same goes for gunpowder. What is this, some type of underdeveloped nation's disease?

P.S.S.: I am starting to think she is testing me. I did sense a few double-entendres roving in between the scurrility.

* * *

**A/N: Hopefully you had a good time with our gang :) Please review! I'll help me figure out what I've done wrong or could do better and it's also a nice ego boost, yeah? Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello everyone! I know you must all be very mad/disappointed in me for not posting this chapter sooner but I've been utterly busy and with major writer's block. And then when I had it pretty much done, being the perfectionist I am, I couldn't publish it without revising it twenty times before I was satisfied with it. But now, here it is! For those of you who are still confused about my OCs, etc., continue reading. I will be leaving clues and hints so you can put the pieces together. There's no real companion story to this, only bits I have planned in my head. Sorry to anyone who was lost in this but I promise it will all become clearer soon. If you still have questions, PM me or ask in your reviews and I'll be more than glad to reply. **

**Thank you to everyone who has been following me/this story, favorited and/or reviewed! I could have never mustered the imagination to pull this second installment if it weren't for your encouragement. Thank you for sticking with me even after all this time ❥  
**

* * *

Dearest Pookie Bean,

'Tis your cousin speaking! First and foremost, I shall present you with my most beloved wishes for a safe trip back to our Queen's land with hopes that you will excuse this peasant of yours for lack of contact. Amongst the prime excuses are: being too busy attempting to drown Regulus in the well and throwing rocks at him, the restoring of an antique flying motorcycle recently acquired by yours truly, last hour Marauders' meetings and the discovery of a certain brown owl living and crapping inside father's bureau since Merlin knows how long.

I can't possibly imagine what you feed Bev when she's in your care but whatever it is causes her droppings to burn holes into solid matter. I can never thank you enough for ridding an entire room of Black generations' artifacts. Mother has had about three fits since but alas, as it is, bad people just do not die so easily.

I sometimes wish to have joined in your voyage to Nipponese territories, however my staying here has revealed an immense potential that I, incorrigible troublemaker, am not capable of resisting. My cousins (the other undignified ones) have just unpacked and appear inclined to join in the fun in the role of prized victims. And just what sort of relative would I be if I did not allow their participation? Of course it's not the same without you here, Pookie Bean, considering my make-over skills are still a bit too rough on the edges but on the other hand, my bone binding curse and armour manipulation are perfectly sharp!

I managed to twist Bella's ankles 180 degrees and throw her from her bedroom's window twice in a row this morning. One would assume Moaning Murtle had decided to migrate into our home from the way she kept groaning. However, I doubt her ghostly self could ever spat as much cussing as darling Bella does. Cissy is a tad shrewder but I got Billy, the Knight, to wrap his moonstar around her lovely golden locks and drag her along the corridor by the head with it. I believe it is a common cavemen mating ritual according to Moony's book. It's the only one he left behind (all right, that I borrowed unknowingly to him) that actually has pictures in it so of course I had to browse through.

It took two whole minutes before someone actually answered to her shrieking and by then most of her hair had already been ripped off by the roots. I'm sending you the pictures I got with my Muggle camera; cracking material, will be worth a fortune someday. Do not mind the rips and creases at the corners, for an artist shall forever be misunderstood and his work looked down upon, especially by those closer to him. Tragic me! But now I shall keep proof for when I tell my grandchildren the day their aunt Cissy's mane never became the same. And it rhymes!

Now watch me weep.

Well, I seem to have run out of interesting material to entertain you with. And now that I have told you all about my miserable life inside these dreadful four walls run by snobbish pure breds, I beg you to make haste and not leave me alone for another minute. James has been my only consolation and even he seems to be repelled by the idea of ever stepping inside this house without a fair stash of tranquilizer. He says if it works with the giant acromantulas at the Forbidden Forest, it ought to work with my family. Poor ingenuous child.

Your toujours impure,

Sirius Black

P.S.: Just who is the **wanker** Ray-Ray's been seeing? I want a name and an abominably illegal overseas spell.

P.S.S: I will murder Bev during her sleep if you do not pay me a visit. I mean it. Regulus has been feeling rather lonely inside that well.

* * *

Dear Lily,

Before you begin to wonder why this letter hasn't crumpled to shreds at your hands by now, I should tell you it's because I have charmed it so that any destructive spell that you use will not take effect in it. The reason being that, well, for once I would like you to actually _read_ something I have written before reducing it to unimaginably tiny particles. I know, how sumptuous of me.

I suppose you've seen the money I am sending with this. Let me know if it's enough to pay for your parents' lamp and everything else as my comprehension of Muggle currency is very reduced and I could not make an appropriate exchange estimation even with Remus clucking in my ear. Or rather, his owl. Thanks for fixing Gwenllian's wing, by the way. She was pretty scared but fine overall.

Just to make a very important statement clear here: I will not be sending you any more letters or presents. I will not even bewitch them to appear beside you in your bed every time you wake up. Or to read themselves aloud whenever your family (especially that beer-belly fellow) is around. Or to write compliments whenever you try to rip them apart. Or to chase the postman when he reaches your doorstep. Is there any I'm missing? Anyways, sorry for those. I was not trying to prove anything with them, I was just kind of desperate and emotionally distressed with your multiple and sequential rejections. At least that is what Remus says.

So, you see, I asked Remus what I should do and he told me I should apologize for being a complete and utter arse to you. The blunt adjectives are all his, for the record. But in any case, I do realize now that I might have overdone it a tad and I apologize profusely for it. I hope you can forgive me and… Well, that's about it, really. Forgive me.

Do keep my presents, if you wish. None is poisoned, jinxed or anything of that sort. I will not be expecting any from you, if that is what you're worried about. In fact, I would be bricking it if your owl decided to drop by. I wouldn't know what to think, after that Howler. I suppose you were in your fair right to send me one, given the circumstances. I would have preferred if you didn't but eh, it was my fault. And just so you know, my parents did hear it, as did everyone else in the neighbourhood, I expect. That is, if the broom banging and numerous flooing into our fireplace blaring obscenities were any indication.

Can't really think of anything else I would like to say to you. Well, I do but I suspect you wouldn't be particularly happy about it so I will just keep my hand from writing it down for now.

Goodbye,

James

P.S.: D'you happen to like mint chocolate brownies?

* * *

Dear Ray-Ray

I just woke up and I'm feeling terrible. My eyes are swollen and clasped, can barely open them. Feels like I have troll's drool all over them. My dang nose is running something chronic and I have a fever… I think. Mum says it's nonsense and that I'm perfectly normal, so that must mean I really do have a fever. Thing is, the twins are down with dragonpox and I think I have caught it. They are in much better shape than I am, however. They have been running round all day, jumping into my bed and foot and tummy and even though mum hollers at them every two minutes to be still they haven't stopped to catch their breaths yet.

I have thrown up THREE TIMES since I woke up. I feel like I have had a gazillion ounces of Fire Whiskey at once. Merlin, I am so depressed, Ray-Ray. I wish you were here to make it better. Mum is too busy controlling those rascals and today is dad's time to do the chores so he doesn't even have time to scratch his bum, let alone come up here to see me. He did bring me soup but it's been dawned on the toilet for long now. Maybe because he did have time to scratch his bum while making me soup.

Wait… I believe there's more vomit coming…

No, false alarm.

I think Pollux might have broken some of my ribs because I can't feel anything, no hunger at all. I can't even see that well. I can see some sort of creature approaching my window and I believe it's an owl. Otherwise I should just stop writing and run for my dear life, screaming out down the stairs about the acopalypse but I can't so I might as well just stay where I am and see what happens. If I die, I'll die happy because I am writing to you, Ray-Ray. You are the bestest of friends and you know that, along with Lily, of course. Poor one must be worse than I am with that sister of hers bossing her round for the wedding to come.

I could forget the unknown creature for a few seconds but now I have looked up again. I see bloody nothing but I can still hear the awful sounds that come from both my brother's mouth and the outside.

All right, so whatever it was, it just smashed into my window. It ought to be Chester from the looks of it. Oh well, too sick to get out of bed and get it. Mum will eventually visit. I hope. Castor's back and he's attempting to crawl up my desk and open the window. Pollux is on his tail so there will obviously be some shite for mum to take care of soon enough. I take no responsibility for it since I am so ill and everything.

I feel for Chester, however. If they do get their hands on him, each will be pulling a wing out to count the feathers. They do that a lot now for no apparent reason other than being complete bonkers but it seems entertaining. So one day, when I start feeling just a tad better I might just try it myself and see what all the fuss is about.

Do owls have sweaty armpits? We shall never know, except for Pollux and Castor. They must know a great deal about those sorts of things now.

I would ask them but they are too busy trying to get to the window faster than the other and pushing each other around. So Pollux is now on the floor, bawling his eyes out like a little girl, and Castor has run away and under my bed before mum comes in and yells at them both. Chester seems a bit disorientated. Well, more than usually, and so he can't seem to understand if it's another owl greeting him from the inside or his own reflection. It's a cracking show to watch, I tell you. He's moving round from side to side, craning his neck to the sides and then moving round again. Bumping his head. Fantastic.

Don't tell Pete.

Mum's here so I got to go, I suppose. She's always furious when she sees me doing anything but resting. I'm not particularly tired so I don't see the point in getting rest but she seems to, so I will just obey her and let her deal with the twins before I get into trouble as well. Chester was freed, I think, and flew out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. I'm quite sure it's the kitchen since I can hear all this racket of pans and cutlery and my dad's voice cursing like a mad one-eyed sailor.

Ah well, I bid you farewell now. If I don't reply in three days, let the proper authorities know. As well as my cousin. I know it would be a very unpleasant experience for you but remember he's been trying to be a righteous chap lately, even if he can't get one thing right without my guidance. And with this, I mean he hasn't been receiving any guidance. As it should be, because I am not a traitor.

I love you and miss you,

Eithne (on her deathbed)

P.S.: I love bellflowers, buttercups, peonies, tuberoses, sunflowers, watsonias, nerines and pink minks. I hate carnations, tulips, roses and gerberas.

P.S.S.: And lilies. But don't tell anyone.

* * *

Dear Padfoot,

I didn't really understand what you meant by "wholly and blasphemously banned from our magnificent and honourable fraternity" in your last letter but my gut is telling me it's probably nothing good so I wanted to explain that I have had a horrible week! I might as well tell you about it so that you know what I have been through. And also because I don't have a journal to write down all my most profound thoughts and avoid a traumatic future. Ma says it's a lass thing, to keep journals.

Aunt Tella's cat Marabeth just died and she insists it was from food poisoning so ma is absolutely hysterical. You see, she was the one to cook the brownies in the first place and now she's being accused of something as terrible as that… It really got her in a bad mood. In fact, I am writing to you from our basement with only half a candle and still burning because ma accidentally broke my wand when she was trying to take it from me to curse aunt Tella (hers had been taken by aunt Tella who clearly saw it coming). I'm sure it wasn't her fault – I mean ma, not aunt Tella – but still, it was a very good wand and that way I would not be sending you a letter full of wax stains. So sorry about them.

I have to go now. Marabeth's funeral is going to be held in a few minutes. I just hope they remember where they have locked me or else I will have to stay here the whole night.

Sincerely yours,

Wormtail

P.S.: Now lhe cuudle is neaully out. I cunt see unyHing. Iln Eurled!

[Now the candle is nearly out. I can't see anything. I'm scared!]

* * *

Dear Ray-Ray,

Please ignore Sirius' last letter. He's a git and he has no right to poke his nose into your life like that. Especially when you have made it perfectly clear with warnings, level 5 spells and profanity resistant even to _Mrs. Scower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover_, that he is the last person you would allow doing so. If it makes you feel any better, he only means well seeing as you know this lad for so little time. I too feel the need to warn you beforehand, although I know you are as capable of taking care of yourself as Filch is of destroying the last ounce of confidence in an innocent soul. May I suggest a foe-glass or a secrecy sensor just in case?

Nevertheless, I am terribly sorry about Gerard's purple palpitating eyes. I don't know what Peter was thinking giving Sirius that bloke's address but you know Peter: when one threatens him (and by threatening I mean convince him sweet and nicely with fake promises of inexistent golden Marauder membership with access to exclusive goodies) he usually ends up giving in. I know of a very good ointment for the excruciating pain and recurring hallucinations your friend must be suffering now; in fact, I'm sending it to you in hopes he gets better and you give up the urge to Incendio my two best friends.

But you see, Peter is… Well, Peter really. And living with his great-aunt for the most of summer hasn't benefited him in the least. Because, in all honestly, how well can one sleep at night with that old hag promising to exhume his father's corpse and hang it on the ceiling so he can look at it and be reminded of how great he was and how terrible his son is (and also to do well on his potions' exercises, in which he obviously will not be able to concentrate with those thoughts roaming around his brain). I mean, the man was decapitated, for Merlin's sake! Found on the depths of a lake near his country house, all grime and mud. Nothing great at all.

Don't tell Pete.

Worse than that would be a portrait of Sirius' mum, throwing tantrums whenever a mouse so much as scurried away in the darkness. One of the main reasons why I think everyone's been keeping her alive until now. I see no other. Perhaps to have someone to distract everyone else from You-Know-Who. Have someone else to be terrified of. You know, divide the fear, have two subjects of focus. I believe it works.

Speaking of Sirius now, he's not used to being overlooked. Constantly receiving your utmost despise and indifference only bruise his ego further, which unlike what happens to normal people, is not good at all.

I am not saying you should not do it because Merlin knows how much he and James need an alarm call of some sort. But the more peeved you get the more challenging it will be for him and then he will just not give it up. I am saying this because I know him as well as I can possibly know someone. And also because I'm friends with the both of you. Also, on his defence, he really likes you, Ray-Ray. That is the only reason why he acts like such a berk sometimes, in fact. He's not thinking straight and he actually believes he is being incredibly charming.

I know, bloody hell barmy right?

So, with this, I hope you at least break only one of his arms, perhaps damage his family jewels, but nothing too serious. Like I said, it's not his fault. Well, not entirely I suppose. Those bat wing bouquets… Just absurd. You can be sure I did not take any part in it, and just wondering where he might have gotten them makes me a tad distressed.

But that's not something we should be concerned about for now.

I hope not to hear you've been incarcerated in Azkaban for murder in the next few days.

Hopefully helpful,

Remus

P.S.: Sirius just sent me a letter and I can't quite make out the words in it since they're so bloody blotchy (it's raining outside and where's the surprise in that?) but I think he's trying to tell me something important about you. No, do not stop reading just yet.

P.S.S.: The letter says and I quote: "MOONY, THOSE BLASTED BROWNIES WERE POISONED DON'T EAT THEM OR LET ANYONE ELSE DO IT! WARN RAY-RAY FOR ME!"

P.S.S.S: Oh shite.

* * *

Dear Peter,

The reason your aunt Tella's cat died was simply and obviously because cats aren't supposed to eat their weight in chocolate or any chocolate for that matter! Especially when they are old. She simply died of indigestion!

Now quit making everyone worried so Black can stop sending me frantic messages through every owl he can put his hands on, including a pigmy-owl that barely made it alive into my bedroom (the storm and the letter's weight were just too much for it, I can't believe that irresponsible toe-rag felt like he could use it!) and an eagle owl who chased after Toulouse in hopes of having him as a meal! I could not think of anything else but petrifying the monster, which caused it to hit my mum's Persian porcelains' cabinet. The spell might have been a tad strong because we could not tell the owl apart from the porcelain. A moment later I realised I should have used Impedimenta instead and perhaps change its course while Toulouse had time to hide... Nevertheless, I doubt the owl would have made it alive after my father had seen the damage.

So in the end, Pryderi simply swept the different pieces to the sides, levitating the organic ones all the way through the corridor and leaving the others to repair later. I ditched my violin practice and decided to help him, considering it took hours for everything to come into place. Yes, I hold it all against both you and your damned friend but rest assured, I will only mauler Black and give you a few scars to live with.

Old on a moment, as an owl just came by.

Well, well. As it is, a letter from darling Remus! With very elucidative content, I might add.

So you should be happy to know that Gerhard is recovering well. Very well, in fact. We were afraid he would be permanently blind for the rest of his handsome life but as it is, there are still lovely friends out there who actually care for you and are not BLOODY TRAITORS. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a visit to pay to my new best friend whose exquisite blue eyes might very well cause me to fall for his charm.

And yes, tell BLACK that, since you are so unbelievably loyal to him.

Hoping to find you dead,

Reagan

P. S.: And it is now REAGAN to you!

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**A/N: Well, here is it. Hope you guys liked it and if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask. I will try to get chapter 3 out as soon as possible and I would like for you to give me any suggestions or tell me what you would like to happen next! It will be a great help and that way the story would be much more interesting. AND ****PLEASE REVIEW! I won't know how good or bad my story is if I don't get any feedback. ****Until next time!** :) 


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